


KROGAN HEADBUTTS

by spicyshimmy



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyshimmy/pseuds/spicyshimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Kassafrassa on tumblr. James Vega is an honorary Krogan. Steve Cortez offers to kiss his honorary Krogan head-wounds and make them better. <i>Sometimes, a guy woke up after a night of pretty solid drinking and thought to himself, Damn if I don’t feel like I’ve been headbutting Krogans all night.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	KROGAN HEADBUTTS

Sometimes, a guy woke up after a night of pretty solid drinking and thought to himself, _Damn if I don’t feel like I’ve been headbutting Krogans all night._

Sometimes, that was exactly what he _had_ been up to.

‘I’m telling you, Esteban,’ James said, ‘I got that Krogan good—wham! _Right_ in the chest. Pretty sure I took him _down,_ too. Just like flexing too hard and knocking over any nearby _Salarians_ with my _guns_.’

‘You know, the thing about traditional Krogan practices is that _they’ve_ got head armor built right in,’ Cortez replied, rapping his own temple with his knuckles, smoothing his thumb over James’s after. ‘But us? We don’t. So _most_ of us know when to fold. That’s _our_ version of head-armor—you know, not charging head-first into stupid things.’

James knew he didn’t flinch when Cortez tilted his chin down, checking out the damage on his forehead. It was just a lone muscle flex—a pop—nothing more. All it meant was he needed to quit being dizzy, quit hearing that ambient hum in the air, and get himself back to his daily workout. And soon. ‘Hey now—aren’t you always telling me I’ve got a thick skull?’

‘That and thin skin,’ Cortez said. ‘Not exactly a winning combination. Quit squirming, Mr. Vega.’

It was the _Mr._ that always got to him. ‘You looking for a _yes, sir_ , you’re not getting one.’

‘That’s not what I’m looking for,’ Cortez said.

Up close, James could smell him—with the grudging admission that he always smelled nice, decent, better than most of the guys James played cards with on the Citadel and _definitely_ better than any of the Krogans he’d gone out with the night before. With a name like Grunt, using soap was way out of the question. James got that, reputation and power and exoskeletons, but with a name like _James Vega_ you couldn’t back down from a challenge, either.

Especially not when you had to work with the alien in question and he already had an ego the size of a freaking _thresher maw_.

Those things were _huge_.

But James wasn’t all that little himself, even if his current treatment made him _feel_ like he was, Cortez getting some medigel onto the bruise to bring the swelling down and being all _gentle_ about it, with his good smells and his fingers against the buzz-cut, against James’s scalp. The stuff stung where the cut was, raw skin from Krogan impact, and James chuckled to hide the natural wince.

‘All right—all patched up and good as new,’ Cortez said. ‘Unless _you’re_ looking for someone to kiss it and make it better, Mr. Vega?’

‘No way,’ James replied, and, ‘quit fooling around, Esteban.’

‘Says the guy who tried to headbutt a Krogan last night.’ Cortez stepped back to admire his work, maybe something else, and James felt like a Krogan himself: big and slow, with the wrong kind of target painted right there on the center of his chest. ‘You go ahead and work it off.’

James tried to muster the usual _Why? So you can enjoy the view?_

But for some reason, it didn’t come as easy. 

**END**


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